Pawn
by Captain.Arsnic
Summary: What happens when everything you know is a lie and you begin to see the side that you're fighting for as corrupt as the side you're fighting against? What happens when you realize you're just a pawn? AU sixth/seventh year. Eventual Dramoine.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its subsidies. **

**Summary: What happens when everything you know is a lie and you begin to see the side that you're fighting for as corrupt as the side you're fighting against? AU sixth/seventh year. Eventual Dramoine. Rated M for darker themes and cussing.**

**Author's Note: This is a story that I've had running around in my head for a while. A bit AU. All events happen as is through fifth year, but in the sixth year not much happens. It is a bit of a stasis year. They do know about the horcrux, but that is all. Dumbledore is not dead and they are back for their seventh year. Hermione is Head Girl and Draco is Head Boy. I hope you all enjoy! **

Chapter One

"I'm sorry Hermione. It's just not possible."

No words had ever cut into her like the ones Harry just uttered. He could not even look her in her eyes when he told her. Hermione felt like she was drifting off in an ocean, unable to catch ahold of a support to keep above the water.

"You obviously haven't tried hard enough." She hissed, not caring if she was causing the rift between her and Harry to widen.

Harry sighed, turning even farther away from her, anger slowly building. "I've been talking to him for the past three months, Hermione! What do you want me to do? Use _imperious_ on him to let you into the Order? If he hasn't let you in by now, he won't. I don't know why! It makes no sense! You've always been the one who was able to come up with the plans. You've always been our brains. Why doesn't he let you join?"

Hermione realized then that Harry was just as hurt as she was with her rejection from the Order. She felt that Dumbledore was hiding something from them and that _something_ was the reason he wasn't letting her in. It wasn't like she didn't know where the headquarters was. It wasn't that she didn't already know everything that was going on in the meetings thanks to Ron and Harry. Dumbledore was not making sense and Hermione was going to get to the bottom of this. She wasn't the brightest witch of her age for no reason after all.

"I know what we have to do, Harry." Hermione was smiling. Harry in all the years that he's known her, has never known that smile to mean anything but a devious plan that Hermione has formed that will no doubt have her risking expulsion.

"It's no use. He won't change his mind."

"I don't care if he doesn't change his mind. I'll still know what goes on in the Order thanks to you and Ron."

"No you won't."

"What?" Hermione couldn't believe that Harry actually was going to deny her the details of the Order's plans, of _their_ plans. "And why won't I know the plans?"

"Dumbledore has made everyone take an unbreakable vow. No one can know what goes on in the Order without being in the Order."

"That no good wrinkled ball sack of a geezer!" Hermione exploded, kicking over the chair and the one next to before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Hermione! Wait!" Harry yelled running behind her. "Where are you going?"

Hermione whipped around and stalked back towards Harry. "To tell that useless old man off." Nothing, _nothing_, had ever made Hermione this angry before. There was no reason to deny her from the Order. That was the part that she couldn't get her head around. She was going to get an answer from the old bastard if it was the last thing she did. Even if it meant using the Crusiatus Curse.

"_Hermione!_" Harry called after her retreating form. She was stalking down the hallway causing everyone to make way for the normally approachable and friendly head girl. Part of Harry felt sorry for whatever Hermione was going to do to Albus, yet deep down he felt the Headmaster deserved it. No one really understood why he was so adamant against Hermione joining. It was Ron and him that caused Dumbledore to resort to binding everyone against telling outside people about the Order's plans. If Dumbledore hadn't forced them into silence, Hermione would be part of the Order, even if it would've just been informally. Harry still wasn't sure if he'd make it through the war without Hermione being his brains.

That was always the arrangement. He and Ron would act and Hermione would plan and tell them what to do. She was never one for action. For some reason it always seemed to take her a few seconds longer to cast defensive spells or to think of the spell to use. But that was Hermione. Always over analyzing the situation just so she could tell herself that she cast the right spells and did not mess up anything for anyone else.

Sighing, Harry turned away from the doorway to the empty classroom where he and Hermione were previously located. The house elves had already tidied up the room from her outburst. They were always fond of her after they had forgiven her for SPEW. The house elves certainly went out of their way to make sure Hermione never lacked anything or would get in trouble for any messes. They, of course, always made sure that she never noticed them. They knew that she would feel guilty and think that she was enslaving them. But they didn't blame her. She simply wasn't raised in the right environment and didn't _know_ that the house elves loved to make sure everything was in its place. The Hogwarts house elves especially loved their jobs. They cared for the students more than anyone realized.

Trudging back up to the common room, Harry was worried that Hermione would permanently ruin whatever chance she had of getting into the Order. She was angry. Angrier than Harry had ever seen her and that made him afraid for her safety as well as the Headmaster's. Whatever became of this meeting Harry knew that he could not stop it and could only hope that she wasn't stupid enough to get herself expelled from Hogwarts, although deep down he knew that this was an illogical fear. Dumbledore cared for Hermione like she was his daughter. Perhaps that was why he wouldn't let her join the Order. Or perhaps it was because he didn't want to lose the greatest mind of their generation in a war she had no guarantee of getting out of alive. Yet again Harry was frustrated with the contradiction of that logic. Voldemort was the greatest mind of his generation, and that was a fact Harry grudgingly admitted. How did keeping Hermione out of the war do anything but help the Death Eaters?

Harry let himself flop onto a weathered sofa in front of the fire and brood. He could do nothing but fret over what Hermione was going to do until she came back to the common room and told him herself. He slowly let his mind wander as the fire flickered, kept alive by magic, and let himself be lost in his mind for a while, a practice he might as well get used to if Hermione was no longer going to be the one telling him what to do.

* * *

><p>Hermione stood outside Dumbledore's office, suddenly very afraid of what she might find out. Her fear just made her angrier. What had she to be afraid of? It wasn't like she was going to lose her chance of getting into the Order! That was clearly never going to happen! All she was going to lose if things went wrong is any relationship between her and Dumbledore, and she strangely didn't feel remorse about that. It was a numb subject to think about and she'd cross that bridge if she came to it, not before.<p>

"Miss Granger, are you going to stand out there all day?" Dumbledore called through the door. He sounded tired, Hermione noted, and was probably tired because he knew what was to come. Just like he always did.

"Headmaster," Hermione greeted politely as she opened the door and walked into the office, "I would just like to know why I'm being denied entrance into the Order of the Phoenix for no reason."

"I have reasons, Miss Granger." Dumbledore sighed, seeming ancient. Sometimes Hermione forgot just how old he really was.

"Enlighten me then." She snapped at him.

"I'm afraid I can't. It's Order business."

"The FUCK it is! How can it be Order business if it involves _me_? Or am I so fucking special that I can't be in the Order, but anything that I would like to know that involves me specifically has to do with the fucking Order?" Hermione leveled a glare at Dumbledore who was sitting behind his desk, hands steepeled, observing her over his fingertips. "I'm not an idiot that you can play as a pawn in your war, _Headmaster_. All I want is a reason."

"You are so much like him that it frightens me sometimes." Albus sighed over his hands, almost like a thought that escaped his mind before he could stop it.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and leaned forwards, touching the desk. "Like who?"

"Tom Marvelo Riddle."

"What?" Hermione hissed, drawing back as if she had been physically assaulted.

Dumbledore stood up as if feeling his age and slowly moved around his desk to stand in front of Hermione. "You wanted to know my reason, Miss Granger. You and Mr. Riddle are more alike than anyone would care to acknowledge."

"And for that you keep me away from the Order? Just because I _remind_ you of Voldemort?"

"Not of Voldemort, Hermione. There is a distinction. You remind me of what he used to be. What he was like as a student. I want to keep you out of this war, Hermione. I don't want to ruin you."

Hermione was furious. He was afraid just because she _reminded_ him of Voldemort? Sorry, not Voldemort. Tom fucking Riddle. The boy before he became a dark lord! That was no reason. That was a cop out. If he didn't want her in the Order he could just say so. Even that would be better than saying that she reminded him of fucking _Voldemort_! "And can _I_ not decide if I want to help win this war and stop him?"

Albus Dumbledore knew he would never stop her from helping the Order of the Phoenix. Just as he knew that he was being unjust to this girl. He should have forced her away from Harry and Ron in their second year when it was obvious that it was going to be the Golden Trio to win this war. This girl was too precious to put on the front lines, but if he were to use her in some other way. Alas, this is what he _really_ wanted to protect her from. He sighed and leaned against his desk. Going through three wars was a greater stress than he could ever imagine and Voldemort was even stronger now than he was the first time. He always knew that he would have to use the girl. Sometimes it would just be easier if everyone did what they were told and he didn't have a very intelligent, very angry young girl in his office going against what he wanted.

The silence stretched out for what seemed like a millennium while Albus Dumbledore battled against himself and tried to figure out something other than this solution. "Very well, Miss Granger." He said, finally breaking the silence and startling Hermione, "You can be of help after all. There is an… important meeting this evening that I will require you to attend. Do not tell Harry or Ron that you are leaving. Be back in my office straight after dinner and tell everyone that you are going to the library."

Hermione's eyes lit up in excitement. A meeting that not even Harry was allowed to know about? Perhaps Professor Dumbledore did know how valuable she could be in the war after all. "Thank you Professor!" she exclaimed gleefully and ran out the door. Everything had gone much better than she could have ever hoped. Perhaps she'd even get into the Order!

Dumbledore stared at his office door with a feeling of dread. He knew what was going to happen tonight and he knew that it would break the girl. It had to be done, he forced himself to reason. It had to be done so she would stay out of the way. Sometimes he could not see why everyone had so much faith in him and believed him to represent the absolute good. Could they not see that he did what was necessary and not what was always _good_? He would win the war, yes. He always knew that. At what cost, though?


	2. Chapter 2

**I would love to thank everyone who's read the first chapter, or even glanced at it! I was fairly shocked to see over 70 people had read it when I got home tonight. As a thank you here's chapter 2! I'm going to try to update as frequently as possible!**

Chapter 2

Hermione could barely contain herself as she sat through dinner in the Great Hall. For performance's sake, she kept up an outward appearance of despair. If she had come back from Professor Dumbledore ecstatic, but still not in the Order of the Phoenix, Ron and Harry would be curious. Hermione did not want them to be curious. She was special enough to get to attend a secret meeting. Professor Dumbledore held her above those two. While she always knew she was special, it was nice to finally be acknowledged for it.

Harry did notice that there was something weird going on with Hermione. He expected her to destroy the Great Hall. Not sit down at her usual spot along the table and shovel copious amounts of food into her mouth. Harry was sure that she was matching Ron in her consumption. For the seven years that they've known each other, Harry was positive that she only ate like that when something wonderful happened. Could she be in the Order? Harry quickly dismissed the idea. If she was in, she would be swinging from the rafters out of glee. She would've told him straight away, even yelled it through the Hall.

Harry pushed his food around his plate as he watched her. She definitely was happy, that much was obvious. But she was happy about something that she could not tell them. Was it something that the Professor allowed her to do? Or was it a reason for the rejection that pleased her? Harry would have to talk to her to find out, he decided, after most of the Gryffindors had gone to bed.

The Hall was slowly clearing out. Most of the Slytherins had already left. Crabbe and Goyle were the only two from the high years, still shoveling food into their mouths. A few first years lingered around them, as if their presence would protect them from anything the school had to throw at them. The entire Ravenclaw table was empty as well. The house typically moved as a group in the first place. There was typically never a Ravenclaw seen alone. A handful of Hufflepuffs were left around their table chatting idly and in no hurry to leave. Gryffindors were by far the most represented with about a quarter of their house still at their table chatting with one another, the food forgotten for the most part.

Hermione was watching Harry. She was well aware that he had been watching her throughout the entire meal. No matter how subtle Harry might think himself, the truth was he was about as obvious in a room as a hippo wearing a pink tutu without his cloak on. She was waiting for his attention to turn from her, as it was invariably going to do, in order to make her escape. She knew that Dumbledore told her to tell them that she was going to the library, but Harry would insist he follow her and have a 'talk.' She also didn't want to tell Ron who would care less where she went, but would tell Harry. She didn't want to answer their questions as to where she was.

Harry looked away from her and towards the Slytherins.

She bolted out the doors as quietly and as quickly as she could. Hopefully Harry would be too busy glaring at the rival house's table to realize that she was gone until it was too late and he wouldn't be able to track her. Hermione realized as she slid out of the Great Hall without attracting his attention that he still had the map. Cursing her luck she continued to the Headmaster's office. Hopefully he would forget about the map as well. Hopefully the meeting wouldn't take place in Hogwarts at all.

Hermione knocked casually on the door. She knew that Professor Dumbledore already knew that she was outside, but polite is polite. She wouldn't want him to think she was trying to eavesdrop on an important conversation.

"Come in Miss Granger." Dumbledore called. His voice sounded heavier than earlier, Hermione noted as she eased open the door and gently shut it behind her. Dumbledore was standing next to Fawkes, gently stroking his head as the bird softly cawed in its own greeting. "Are you ready Miss Granger? The time for the meeting is at hand."

"Where are we going Professor? I thought that the meeting would be here?" Hermione was definitely curious now. Why was the meeting so important that it could not take place here? There could hardly be a safer place for one. Still Hermione stepped towards Dumbledore and took his arm.

"This will be a dangerous meeting, Miss Granger. Do not let your guard down and do not, under any circumstances, leave my side. Do you understand?" Dumbledore was looking down at her and she had never seen him as serious as he was now.

Startled that he would take her to a meeting that was so obviously dangerous that he would lay these ground rules out, she nodded her head, not trusting her voice to answer without stuttering or cracking. Hermione felt like she was going to witness history. Some great turning point in this war. She could not quite figure out how she knew this, but she would bet her library on it. No matter how afraid she was right now, Hermione knew she couldn't miss this moment. She felt the pull and sudden disorientation of an apparition and then she was standing behind Dumbledore and a table separating them from someone who Hermione never thought she would see this close.

Across the table from here was none other than the Dark Lord himself.

Voldemort.

Somehow that could not process. She. Was standing. Across. From Voldemort and he wasn't trying to kill them. Was Dumbledore working with Voldemort? Had he betrayed their side? Nothing was making sense to her. If Dumbledore had betrayed them, why would he bring her along with him? Unless he thought that she would join up? He did say that she reminded him of Voldemort when he was young.

"Albus." The silence was broken by the snake like man sitting calmly in his chair, "Do sit down." He pointed towards the empty chair across from him like this was an everyday occurrence.

"Tom." Dumbledore greeted just as curtly, taking the chair that Tom offered, but still keeping Hermione behind him.

"I will not surrender this month. Nothing changes. I only come to these monthly meetings to see if you yet tire of this war." Voldemort said smugly. Clearly Hermione was of no concern to him. He had not even looked at her since they arrived. In fact he was acting as if Dumbledore was the only one in the room.

Suddenly suspicious, Hermione glanced down at her hands. Something slid over her skin, it was hypnotizing to watch. She almost gave a cry of glee to see such and advanced spell in work, but stopped herself short. The cloaking spell would only work for her visual self, not any noise she made. Even then it would only be for a few minutes. Dumbledore must not have expected them to be here long then. And with the way this meeting was going, she could see why.

"Are you sure about that, Tom?" Dumbledore leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "What if I were to tell you that I have the one thing that you've been looking for these last seventeen years."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, suddenly on edge. Gone was the cockiness he had displayed earlier. "And what would that be?"

Dumbledore just smiled as he stood up, causally touching Hermione's arm and disapparited leaving a momentarily dizzy Hermione to catch up with the rapid change in scenery. Fawkes was squawking a hello to them, clearly happy to have company again after only being gone for a few minutes. She watched as Headmaster Dumbledore walked over and started to pet the phoenix, a look of love and care occupying his face as he gazed down at Fawkes. She wouldn't be surprised if that bird was the only thing that Dumbledore truly loved, let alone had as a form of family.

"Yes, Miss Granger. That was Voldemort." Dumbledore answered her nonverbal question that was raging through her mind to be asked since the start of the meeting.

"How long?" Hermione asked, gazing down at her shoes. She could barely stand to look at Dumbledore. He had been meeting with their enemy, having numerous chances to kill him and end this war, but he didn't.

"Three months now. We meet once a month to see if the other one is ready to surrender. I can't enter that room if I were arriving for the sole purpose to cause harm to him, Hermione. And he can't enter if he were intent on killing me. Meager contact with one another is better than none. You would be surprised by how much you could learn from just a few sentences." Dumbledore had moved away from Fawkes and was standing in front of his desk looking down at Hermione. At times, Dumbledore seemed more like a grandfather to her than what she could remember of her own grandfather.

"But why not tell anyone?" she questioned, meeting his eyes with a fraction of the anger she had earlier in the day.

Dumbledore said nothing and just gave her a look that said she already knew the answer. Just because she already knew that if he told the others they would be on him to use the meetings to kill Voldemort and would not let him go without an army behind him didn't mean that she didn't want to hear it from the man himself. Hermione knew that Harry and Ron in particular would be difficult to deal with. They would never give up on an idea until they had it beaten into them that it would never work or until they had succeeded in pulling it off. The rest of the Order were a bit more level headed, but almost no one would be willing to give up the idea of mounting an ambush during the meeting easily.

"It's time for you to go back to the Gryffindor's tower, Hermione. It's well past curfew." Dumbledore said kindly, suddenly interested in some papers left on his desk.

"Professor, what was it you were talking about?"

"To bed, Miss Granger." He was sitting behind his desk, not glancing up from the stack of papers that had suddenly gained his undivided interests.

"Headmaster, what is Voldemort looking for?" If Hermione was curious before, there was no way she would leave without knowing what is was now. Whatever Dumbledore had found, it was big enough to cause Voldemort to be outwardly upset. Her anger at dealing with people who would not give her straight answers only fueled her desire to get an answer to the question.

"Goodnight, Hermoine." And she knew that she would not get a straight answer from the Hogwarts Headmaster. Not that that surprised her anymore. After being denied access to the Order and now being denied information, it was clear that Dumbledore would not tell her anything anymore. She would just have to find the answer herself and hope it wasn't some ridiculous thing that only two people in the world know about and Dumbledore just happened to be one simply because he was Tom Riddle's professor. After all, that was how things with Dumbledore usually went.

"And Miss Granger?" Hermione paused at the door, half out of the room and turned back to look at Dumbledore who had finally looked up from the papers to stare directly at her. "Don't tell anyone about tonight."

"You don't have to worry, Headmaster. It's not like anyone would believe that you've been meeting with Voldemort." She couldn't help but slam the door behind her and stomp down the stairs and into the hallway.

The good mood that she felt during dinner was long gone, much to her disappointment. Hermione could always do with a bit of cheer and that was long overdue for the usually serious Head Girl. After she and Ron had tried unsuccessfully to date things just became awkward for two thirds of the trio. Hermione felt like she could love Ron and sometimes saw a future with them together, but right now she could not see it happening. Ron was just a huge three year old with an emotional range of a teaspoon yet she had found herself falling in love with him over the years. But it couldn't last.

Hermione had hoped that after a couple of months of being together Ron would mature a bit. She wasn't expecting him to turn into an overly sensitive guy who acted like he was fifty. Just maybe something around their age would be nice. It was ignorant for her to assume that she could change him, Hermione acknowledged now. She just wished she would have realized it earlier to prevent the loss of her first love.

"Hog's Timer." Hermione muttered to the Fat Lady and clambered through the passageway into the common room. She knew that this common room would be what she missed most about Hogwarts after the year was up and she went on to fight the war. Nothing would ever feel quite so comfortable, safe, or warm.

"Hermione!" Harry called at her from their usual sofa in front of the fire. She knew this conversation was going to have to happen. She just didn't want to do it.

"Yes, Harry?" she replied, trying to keep her annoyance from her voice. They were the only two in the common room right now, everyone else fast asleep in preparation for classes in the morning. Much like the two of them should be right now.

"Why were you with Professor Dumbledore and where did you two disappear to? You weren't anywhere in Hogwarts." The Marauder's map sat folded out next to him on the sofa.

"I can't tell you, Harry." Hermione flopped down on the opposite end of the couch from Harry, the map acting like a wall between them. "Dumbledore's orders." She added on.

Harry looked hurt. He had always told her everything, or as much as he was able to tell her. "Fucking Dumbledore." He muttered.

Hermione hummed in agreement. "I wish I could tell you Harry. I wish I could be part of the Order and I wish every answer didn't raise so many more God damn questions and most of all I just wish that I could have a normal school year where I didn't have to fear for my life."

"We haven't ever had a normal year at Hogwarts, have we?" Harry asked, shocked.

"I blame you and your whole chosen destiny shit."

"Not my fault. Could've just as easily been someone else."

"It, however, is my fault that I ever allowed myself to be friends with you. I could've had a nice quite seven years of school without you and Voldemort messing everything up for me. Just think about how much better my grades would be without fearing for my death."

Harry looked slightly hurt and rubbed his scar absent mindedly. "Do you really feel that way?"

"I wouldn't trade the last seven years for the world, Harry." Hermione stated fiercely. And it was true. No matter how many times their lives had been in danger, these school years had been the best times Hermione could ever think of. Harry was still rubbing his scar. "Headache?"

Harry nodded. "Worst one I can remember. Has me slightly worried. Last time I felt like this was fifth year at the Ministry."

"Should I get Dumbledore?" Hermione was more than worried. She knew Harry had never fully blocked his mind from Voldemort. If he was trying to get into Harry's head now…

Harry nodded, pain going beyond his ability to speak without screaming and the last thing he wanted to do was wake up the entire house when Voldemort was trying to get to him.

"I'll be right back, Harry." Hermione said, standing up and touching Harry's shoulder in reassurance. When Harry looked up at her, however, his eyes were red.

"You." He hissed. The voice was the one she had only heard once before, not even an hour ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's**** Note: Sorry I took so long! All my professors decided that last week was a good week to have every. Single. Project. Ever due. Hopefully I'll be able to update more this week since I have almost nothing due. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as people have enjoyed the last two! The plot thickens up a bit in this chapter!**

Chapter 3

For being the smartest witch of her age, Hermione couldn't think of a single thing to do. She knew that Voldemort could at least read Harry's mind not matter the distance, but she never knew that he could take control of him so completely. It was unnerving to hear the voice of her worst enemy coming from her best friend. As she debated running to get Dumbledore, Voldemort spoke again.

"You were at the meeting tonight, weren't you?"

"How did you…?" Hermione was intrigued. She was sure that Dumbledore's spell had completely concealed her existence, even from Dumbledore himself, so how would _Voldemort_ know?

"You perfume is an uncommon brand, is it not?" Voldemort asked.

Of course. Concealment spells typically don't hide smells, just the visuals of the object. "I didn't think I was wearing that much." She muttered, at bit embarrassed that she may have been wearing too much perfume all these years.

"It wasn't. But that's beside the point. Why would Albus want you there?" He stood up and walked closer to her, examining her like she was on a lab table, ready to be dissected. Hermione didn't respond, angering him. "I said _WHY did he want YOU there, MUDBLOOD_?"

"I don't know!" Hermione shouted back, hoping that it would wake someone up, "One moment I was arguing with him about letting me into the Order and the next he told me to come with him for a meeting!" She shut her mouth quick. She shouldn't have said that. More importantly, _why_ did she reveal that?

"He wouldn't let you in? Little girl of the "Golden Trio", isn't it?" He stalked closer to her and Hermione couldn't help feel like a rabbit trapped in a cage as a snake slithered closer.

"He said I reminded him of _you_, if you must know." She didn't know what was wrong with her. Why should she tell him all of this? While she didn't think it could hurt the Order, it couldn't help them either. Voldemort was sure to use this against them _someway_.

That caused Voldemort to pause and look at Hermione carefully, coming to stand directly before her. He was looking at her as if searching for something, and, seeming to find what he was looking for, muttered a spell under his breath. Hermione was incased in a deep green glow that seemed to radiate from her.

"Why didn't I see this before?" Voldemort hissed and then smiled at Hermione. "You didn't realize this either, did you?"

"Realize what?" Hermione was beyond confused an unknown and unwelcomed territory for her.

Voldemort did not get the chance to reply. A pained expression crossed Harry's face before he muttered "I must be going now. It seems Harry is finally grasping the concept of repelling me from his mind." The red vanished from Harry's eyes and he collapsed onto the floor.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, dropping down next to him.

"M'Fine." Harry mumbled, rubbing his scar, "Go get Dumbledore."

"Are you sure…?" She didn't want to leave him alone so soon after Voldemort had taken over his mind. No matter how hard Harry denied it, Voldemort always had a hold on him, and incidents like this left Harry acting more like the Dark Lord than anyone was comfortable admitting.

"Go Hermione." There it was. That tone was uncomfortably akin to the tone of Voldemort's just moments before. Hermione knew that the next few days were going to be a nightmare around Harry. After talking to the Dark Lord, she was going to be seeing him in everything Harry did. And that wouldn't help anyone, only make her more paranoid.

It seemed like no matter how Dumbledore tried to keep them out of trouble, they always ended up in the middle of it. Sometimes it even seemed like Dumbledore was controlling the events leading to them being in the middle of everything. She knew that wasn't so, but events like tonight's always seemed to cast him in a manipulative light.

Hermione also knew that she was supposed to be angry at Dumbledore. He wouldn't allow her into the Order of the Phoenix, even though Harry, Ron, and Ginny were already in and she was older than all of them. He put her in danger tonight, causing Voldemort to become too interested in her for her own liking. And, above all, he wouldn't seem sorry for any of this. Yet here she was, standing in front of his office, needing his help. They could function perfectly well without Dumbledore. In the back of their minds, everyone knew this. Dumbledore, however, seemed to create a dependency in them all. Why put the extra strain on yourself to help fix things when you can just run to Dumbledore and he'll make everything better? This epiphany didn't sit well with Hermione and she just wished that she didn't arrive at it while Harry was laying on the common room floor in need of very specific help for the Headmaster.

"Back again, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked as Hermione slammed the door open and stepped into the room.

"It's Harry, Headmaster. Voldemort took control of him!" She knew she was angry with him. She knew that, but here she was, completely forgetting about it as soon as she saw him. Hermione made a mental note to look for spells that altered peoples' moods.

"When?" Dumbledore was already running out the door, heading down the stairs.

"Just now, Professor. Harry's taken back control already, but Voldemort was controlling him for quite some time." Hermione was finding it slightly difficult to keep up with the wizard. Sometimes it was surprising just how fit Dumbledore could be for his age.

"Did you talk to him?" Dumbledore stopped and turned to face Hermione, suddenly a wall of rage replaced his frantic concern.

"I-I… yes I did." Hermione stammered. She had never seen the Headmaster turn his mood this fast before, let alone hold this much anger directed towards a student.

"You _fool_!" Dumbledore yelled, running off towards the dormitory again, "You've jeopardized _everything!_"

"And how could I jeopardize _anything_ if you won't tell me a fucking thing about anything!" Hermione yelled back, not caring if it was well passed curfew and the paintings were all sleeping. "Maybe if you would trust me I could actually do something! _Anything!_ I'm not a useless little girl, Headmaster, nor am I a fool."

"Things like this are precisely why I can't trust you, Hermione. You let your emotions take control and you do things without thinking." Dumbledore replied, suddenly calm, "Did you two just talk or did he do anything else?"

"He cast some sort of spell." Hermione scrunched her nose thinking about it. The green light was beautiful and made her feel safe and at home, but she couldn't think of what spell would cause that or why Voldemort would cast it on her. "He just made me glow green, but I can't figure out why he would do that."

Dumbledore's face was drawn and he increased his speed towards the common room, not saying another word to Hermione, who huffed in frustration. Tomorrow would be spent in the library doing research, she realized. And, once again, she had something to look forward to that promised to reveal answers instead of creating more.

"Professor! Over here." Harry yelled in greeting as he heard the portrait open. He was huddled on the couch next to the fire with a blanket wrapped around him. He didn't look up when they stood next to him. He hardly seemed to be breathing. Hermione had never seen anything affect Harry more than this except for Sirius's death.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, lowering himself to Harry's eye level and interrupting Harry's line of sight to the fire. It seemed to bring him back to the present from whatever corridor his mind was wandering.

Instead of addressing Dumbledore, Harry turned to look at Hermione, worried, "You need to be careful, Hermione. I don't know why, but he's taken interest in you. Just… be careful."

"I'll try to Harry. It's kind of hard when I'm friends with you, though." Hermione joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Harry," Dumbledore said again, this time gaining Harry's attention, "you need to start Occulmency lessons again. We cannot have this happening and if you want to keep Hermione safe, then you will have to keep Voldemort out of your mind."

"I understand, Professor." Harry said, looking into the fire. Hermione remembered how much he hated his lessons fifth year, and she would bet a Galleon that he would hate them just as much now.

Dumbledore stood up and sat in the chair to the side of the couch, arranging his robes as he sat down. "Hermione." He addressed her without looking at her.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Would you excuse Harry and I. We have things we must discuss."

"And I can't have any input into this? After all, I _was_ the one who actually witnessed and _fucking talked_ to Voldemort!" Hermione yelled. It was getting easier and easier for her to lose her temper at Dumbledore.

"Order Business." Dumbledore responded.

Of course. Of _fucking_ course. He would pull that stunt. And he would keep pulling it because it was an easy way to get her out of the way. Hermione still couldn't figure out why she wasn't allowed in the Order. Her reminding him of Tom Riddle was beside the point, but she was done fighting with the Headmaster for today. She was through dealing with everything for today. Turning on her heel, she marched up the stairs to the single room afforded to her for being the Head Girl. Not sparing the homework on her desk a glance, she marched up to her bed and through herself on it, hoping for sleep to take her soon. Tomorrow held the promise of being better. Hermione hoped that it was the case. After all, how could a day in the library go wrong?


	4. Chapter 4

**I am horribly sorry for how long I left this abandoned. School work has been piling up and only now do I have some free time to write. I'm going to try to update as much as possible over the next month considering that I've adopted this story for NaNoWriMo in order to force myself to make time to work on it. This chapter is the shortest so far, I believe, but I wanted to get something up tonight. I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to reading your reviews!**

Chapter 4

Draco Malfoy was having a fantastic day on top of a fantastic school year. He was Head Boy and theoretically that would mean he had to do a shit ton of work, but thanks to a certain mudblood know-it-all who wouldn't trust him with a spoon, he had all the perks and none of the annoying younger years complaining about how whositwhat called them a name. Or how thangamahbob let susiehosie go and get herself in trouble. Draco Malfoy was above all that. And life was good.

Or life would be good if it wasn't for that cursed owl sitting on his bed, letter tied to the leg and a brown paper wrapped package lying next to it. That owl had been an omen as bad as the grim for him since last year, never baring good news and always, _always_ messing something up. Seeing no choice but to go over and untie the letter from the owl, then giving him a treat before sending it off. It was never good to put off the inevitable, and that owl was known to get violent if ignored, much like its master.

He immediately recognized the script. He never expected it to be anyone else's in the first place. It seemed like Draco had replaced his father in terms of usefulness to the Dark Lord. He never used to write Draco personally and tended to use his father to write anything he had to say. Something changed last year, though. Draco was never told the specifics of what happened. As far as he could gather, his father had royally fucked up a vanishing cabinet whose counterpart existed in the castle. Quite frankly Draco was surprised that Lucius was even still alive after messing up that horribly. The Dark Lord probably figured that he would use Draco's father as emotional blackmail. Like using his mother wasn't enough to keep him in line in the first place. No. He couldn't mess up like his idiotic father.

He broke the seal and watched as the words swirled from whatever they were supposed to be disguised as into the message meant only for his eyes. Draco scanned over the letter and paled. Any color he might have had drained from his face. _Granger_? Why would he care about the mudblood of all people. Yes, she was friends with Potter, but it made no sense to target her. Targeting her would just make the Weasel angrier than anything. Potter was under Dumbledore's spell so far that if the old man told Potter that up was down and Granger was really a pureblood spying for the Dark Lord then he would believe it. Logically Draco knew that the Dark Lord had a reason to target Granger. It just didn't make any sense to him.

He turned to the inconspicuous brown package lying on his desk. It looked innocent enough if the Dark Lord hadn't revealed its contents in the letter. This was another thing that made no sense to him. Why would he give the mudblood his own personal research journals? Sure they were from his time at Hogwarts, but that didn't make them any less dangerous. Draco was even tempted to sit down and read them. He couldn't even begin to fathom the knowledge those books contained. The Dark Lord was evil and no one disputed that, but another thing that no one disputed was how bloody brilliant he was. Granger was smart, no doubt about that, but he was sure that she wasn't even as brilliant as the Dark Lord was. A small part of him wondered what would have happened if a Miss Hermione Granger happened to be alive at the same time as a young Tom Riddle. Who would've come out on top when the brightest witch of her age was pit against the brightest wizard of his?

Draco just shrugged off any worries he might have had. There was nothing he could do in order to gain insight into how his Lord's mind worked anyway. Well, rather than reading the three journals that lay inside the package. He knew he couldn't do that in the first place, though. The Dark Lord would know if he did and he didn't want to think about his punishment for disobeying. He couldn't endanger his parents no matter what. But how to get these to Granger without causing her to be suspicious and toss them away?

He paced back and forth across his private chamber. He could always run into her and accidently give her the books while they scrambled to pick up their belongings. Highly unlikely to work, though. Granger always seemed to know what was hers. Blackmailing a little Gryffindork to take the books and leave them in her room. Draco was almost positive that she would have told everyone her password, if she had one at all. Wouldn't want to leave her precious housemates alone without anyone to kiss their booboos, would she? The only problem he could see was that she would be suspicious of the books. Would her curiosity win over her suspicion? If she were anyone else, yes. However she spent the last seven years running around with Potty and if that didn't make you cautious, nothing did.

His only chance of getting these to her without arousing her suspicion would be in the library. He was almost guaranteed to find her hidden behind stacks of books. Perhaps if he flustered her enough to leave to escape him, he could slip the books in her possession. Especially if she was starting to research something and hadn't flipped through the books already. As much as he didn't like it, this was his only option in order to even have the chance to pass off the books to her. He silently cursed the Dark Lord and his stupid horcrux journal from second year. Granger wouldn't have been suspicious of strange books if it weren't for that journal. Sure she never experienced it first hand, but the Weaslette was bound to tell her "bestest girl friend" all about it. If he was correct that incident affected her more that she let the others know. No one could come out of a meeting with the Dark Lord unaffected and that little ginger had spilled her soul to him.

Draco Malfoy smirked. He had his plan. It wasn't guaranteed to work, but it was better than nothing. As long as he believed it would work, he was fairly sure he could pull it off. Not like he had an option. As long as he stayed in the castle he wouldn't face punishment if he failed at this. However as soon as he went home for the break, he would be welcomed home with the cruciatus curse before anyone could even say hello. Oh, Draco hated the Dark Lord. He hated him for causing so much stress on his family. He hated him for torturing his mother in order to manipulate his father. He hated him for forcing him to become a Death Eater and do his bidding. Most of all Draco Malfoy hated the Dark Lord for taking away his free will.

However, hate wouldn't help Draco for now. He knew how to be patient. He knew how to stand the torture of the various curses the Dark Lord flung at his followers. Eventually the Dark Lord would fall. And Draco Malfoy would make damn sure that he would be a part of his downfall.


	5. Chapter 5

**And here's the next chapter! Hope everyone enjoys! Thanks in advance for reviewing!**

Chapter 5

_Although the _Charminis Charm _will successfully influence any person around its caster, the effect will only last a few minutes at best. However, if used smartly, it will be able to turn a crowd into a group of strong supporters. It has been debated that the muggle Hitler had somehow found the help of a wizard and used this charm in order to achieve his popularity. This theory has been proven false after several tests showed that the charm will only influence the people's decisions for two days at most. Most commonly the charm only lasts a half an hour. _

Hermione slammed the book closed in frustration, creating a rather satisfying echo throughout the library. She carelessly shoved the book in the general direction of all the other useless books she picked up about mood influencing charms. All of them had been completely useless. It seemed like no one had invented a charm that could be used this often or last this long. Perhaps Dumbledore was using a potion, then? Potentially it could be added into the food during meals and if it had no odor or taste, no one would notice it. But that couldn't be the case since the Slytherins still hated Dumbledore with a vengeance. Hermione eye the table, tempted to bang her head against the solid surface. If nothing else, it could be a potential stress relief.

Deciding against creating a bruise on her forehead that two rather obnoxious boys would fret over later on, she turned towards her second pile of books. These were books that could perhaps hold the answer to whatever spell HarryMort cast on her last night. As far as she could deduce, it had no lasting effects. At least she didn't feel like anything was wrong with her. She had a nagging voice in the back of her head telling her that while the spell didn't have any lasting effects, it was incredibly important and to not let it go without researching it.

The trouble was she didn't even know what the spell did in the first place. She only knew the effects of the spell. At least that was something. A nagging voice at the back of her head, the same one that often told her to go to the library, told her it was a diagnostic spell. Hermione glanced at the three towers of books that were carefully stacked before her. Two of the towers were books on medical treatment, a subject that Hermione found fascinating. Before she found out that she was a witch, she often dreamed of becoming a doctor. Maybe she would become a healer after Hogwarts. Hermione pushed the train of thought to the back of her mind. She had enough on her plate without panicking about picking a career path.

The third tower of books was from the restricted section. Hermione knew that they all contained dark arts, but she couldn't really rule out Voldemort using a dark spell on her. It was safer to cover all her bases and study those books carefully. She was sure if she went about it right, the pull of the dark arts wouldn't affect her. She wouldn't _let_ it affect her. Deciding to get the worst out of the way first, Hermione pulled the top book off the stack and started to read.

* * *

><p>It was late afternoon when Harry and Ron came looking for her. They spotted her in the back corner of the library, completely immersed in whatever book she was reading. To one side of her there was a scattering of books, ones she obviously had already devoured. To the other side of her, two enormous towers of books. It was the books in front of Hermione that worried him the most. There were two stacks, about equal sized. From the distance he was, he couldn't be sure what they were, but he could have sworn he had seen a few of the books in the restricted section. As he drew closer his suspicions were confirmed as he spotted a few titles that he did, in fact, remember from that section. A frown crossed his face. Why was Hermione dealing in the Dark Arts? Surely she would have realized that for someone as smart as her their whispers of power would be too strong to resist. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Harry approached the table and sat in one of the chairs next to her.<p>

"Hermione?" Ron questioned behind him. It was obvious by Ron's carefree expression that he didn't realize what the books stacked around her were.

"Hmm?" Hermione was far too engrossed in the book to even look up to acknowledge their presence.

"We haven't seen you all day long. You skipped breakfast and lunch. It's almost time for dinner now. Want to join us?"

"No. I've got some reading to do."

"Hermione," Harry said sternly.

She ignored him.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, grabbing the book out of her hands.

"Harry Potter! You will give that book back to me at once!" Hermione order imperiously.

"Just because Ron's obvious to what this book is, doesn't mean that I am," Harry whispered coldly to her so that Ron wouldn't hear what was being said. "How long have you been studying the Dark Arts?"

Hermione blinked, surprised. "I am _not_ studying the Dark Arts, Harry!" Hermione screeched.

"Really? Because from where I'm sitting it looks like you spent most of the afternoon studiously reading through books about them."

"For your information I'm looking through these books to try to find out what spell Voldemort cast on me last night!" Hermione yelled at Harry, standing up from her chair.

Harry looked concerned. "Hermione, he didn't cast a spell on you that had anything to do with the Dark Arts."

"And how would you know that, Harry. Are you two such good friends that you sit about and chat through that freaky connection you have going on?"

"Wait, Voldemort cast a spell on you, Hermione?" Ron said suddenly, coming out from his stunned silence over Hermione reading books on the Dark Arts.

"Yes, Ron. Last night. You have Harry and his inability to learn Occulmency to thank for that." Hermione replied huffily.

"Why didn't you tell me about this, Harry?" Ron demanded, hurt obvious in his voice.

"Dumbledore told me not to," Harry muttered to his feet, obviously not agreeing with the verdict. "He also told me that you, Hermione, would be looking through the Dark Arts soon, but not to blame you because you wouldn't be able to help yourself."

"_WHAT_!" Hermione screeched, "That no good, old man thinks that he knows me so well just because he says that I'm exactly like _Tom fucking Riddle_!"

"Wait! When did he say that?" Ron yelled.

"Last night! He said _that_ was the reason I couldn't join the Order of the Chicken!" Hermione was pacing angrily around the back corner of the library. "I can't believe him!" She stopped suddenly, as if realizing something. "You know what? Maybe I'll just go ahead and study the Dark Arts. But not to become an evil witch. I'd study them to create counter curses and remedies to them. I could benefit the Order that way. So what if I'm not actually a part of it if I can do this?" she was looking at the boys for approval.

"I don't think so, Hermione. I think you should stay away from the Dark Arts entirely and put away these books. I already told you the spell had nothing to do with them. In fact you'll be more likely to find it in one of those books," Harry pointed to one of the two remaining towers of books, "Now I'm going to take these back to Madam Pince and tell her to not let you back in by order of Dumbledore."

"Harry!" Hermione protested.

"No, Hermione. I'm not going to let you become _him_. If Dumbledore already thinks that you are capable of become like him, then I don't want to do anything that would help you along that path. If you don't want to come to dinner, then stay here and look through the other books to help you find your answer." Harry wrinkled his forehead in concentration, "I… I think the spell might have come out of a book called _Common Medical Diagnosis Spells for the Everyday Witch and Wizard._ At least, for some reason, I remember that title from last night. I've never even looked at a medical book, so it has to count for something, right?"

"Thanks Harry." Hermione mumbled, knowing it was best to not argue with him, waving her wand to put the books she pulled on mood influencing charms back in their rightful places. She smirked when Harry and Ron look perplexed by the spell. It wasn't even remotely difficult to perform; you just had to picture where they came from when casting it. Madam Pince had taught it to her last year when Hermione had started pulling more and more books from the shelves for her research.

Harry walked off, levitating the books in front of him towards the entrance of the library where Madam Pince was bound to be. Ron stayed behind, watching Hermione, worried. "Are you sure you don't want to come to dinner?"

Hermione smiled at him reassuringly. "I'm sure, Ron. Before I go back to the dormitory tonight, I'll stop by the kitchens for something, okay?"

Ron nodded, still worried by her decision, "Don't let books destroy your health, Hermione. Just because we didn't work out as a couple doesn't mean I don't worry about you. Don't forget that, kay?"

"I won't, Ron."

Ron smiled, "Good. I don't know what I would've done if you were too thick to get when someone cared about you."

Hermione playfully slapped his arm, "Now go. You'll be late for dinner and heavens know what the house elves would do if they had to deal with all the leftovers from the meal with you not there to act as a vacuum cleaner to prevent it."

"I'd imagine that they'd think their cooking was so awful that no one would eat it, then spend the rest of the night shoving their heads into ovens and doing whatever else they do to punish themselves." Ron joked, walking away.

"Ronald Weasley! Don't you say such a horrid thing!" Hermione yelled after him.

Ron just laughed as he walked to the entrance of the library, casually lifting his hand to wave goodbye. Hermione shook her head at him as she sat down and looked at the two stacks of books left before her. "_Common Medical Diagnosis Spells for the Everyday Witch and Wizard, _huh? Might as well start there," she mumbled under her breath as she scanned the two stacks and found it about half way down one. Levitating the book out of the pile she placed the massive tomb in front of her and mentally prepared herself for the dry medical text that was bound to be inside. Coincidently, it was the dry medical texts that Hermione was sure she wouldn't be able to handle if she became a healer.

"Well, this isn't going to read itself, is it?" Hermione mumbled to herself, opening the book to the table of contents, briefly scanning over them hoping it might magically reveal the spell that was cast on her. With no such luck, Hermione delved into the book, hoping it might finally lead to an answer.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy was surprised when Hermione Granger failed to make an appearance for the third meal in a row. Whatever she was reading in the library must have been important if she couldn't even remember to eat. Which meant that by the time dinner was finished she would be pretty irritable and would be easier to sneak the books to. Malfoy smirked. Sometimes things just ended up being so damn easy for him.<p>

Potter and Weasley walked into the Great Hall looking irritated. Obviously they had just been to talk to Granger. If they were that upset by her, things would definitely be going his way tonight. If there was anything that he loved more than a mission being successful, it was when the mission was successful and so easy that it involved almost no effort on his part.

Draco glanced at the staff table to see Dumbledore looking at him. This had become a common thing for Draco. He just wished that the old Headmaster would lay off it. It wasn't like he was going to jump on top of the table and do a jig exclaiming that he was a Death Eater and he was going to take over Hogwarts and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Dumbledore had no proof that he was working for the Dark Lord, nor would he get any. The old coot could be as suspicious as he wanted to be, but without proof, he had nothing. Unless he was going to fabricate evidence. That was something that Draco would not put past him so long as it benefited "The Greater Good."

Instead of going up to the staff table to give the dear old Headmaster a piece of his mind, Draco sufficed to roll his eyes and look away, suddenly not very hungry. "I'm going back to the common room." Draco announced, not to anyone particular. No one would question him even if he said nothing when he walked away. The rest of the Slytherins respected him too much to question him. It was time to pay a visit to Granger.

The hallways were deserted, not that Draco expected them to be jam packed with people. Still it was unnerving to wander the halls of Hogwarts where he couldn't even see a ghost or hear the distant cackle of Peeves. The library looked deserted when he walked in, just like the halls. This time, though, he knew that there was someone in here. He wouldn't have to worry about Madam Pince disrupting his plan. He had seen her at the staff table before he left, cheerfully talking with Hagrid about something. What anyone could talk to Hagrid about was beyond him. That oaf was probably too stupid to count to ten, let alone hold a conversation.

Malfoy headed towards the back of the library to check for Granger there. Sure enough he spotted her in the very back table hidden behind the shelves. She didn't seem to notice him there. In fact she seemed to just be staring at a page in her book in shock. She then stood up and walked over the window, leaving her bag open a few feet away. Draco smirked. This would be way too easy for him to accomplish now that Hermione was obviously not aware of his presence.

Slipping up to the table quietly, he took the three books out from his pockets and placed them carefully in her bag. He had accomplished his mission and if she didn't read those books, well it wasn't his fault, was it? He sauntered out of the library smirking to himself. It was time to head up to send a letter to his daddy dearest and the Dark Lord to tell them of his success.

Today was a good day to be a Malfoy.


End file.
